


the only heaven i'll be sent to

by IndianSummer13



Category: Outer Banks (TV)
Genre: Comfort, F/M, First Time, Romance, Soft John B
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-17 18:48:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29105115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IndianSummer13/pseuds/IndianSummer13
Summary: She loves the feel of his skin against hers..The missing bell tower scene from 1X07
Relationships: Sarah Cameron & John B. Routledge, Sarah Cameron/John B. Routledge
Comments: 14
Kudos: 22





	the only heaven i'll be sent to

It’s the first time she’s ever _known_ she’s ready. All of the times before – the times with Topper (and the times with others she doesn’t even want to _think_ about) – she’d thought she was ready.

But she hadn’t ever felt _this_.

John B pauses, tucking her hair behind her ear so he can see her face, and the simple act of it makes her insides feel like they’re being squeezed or like they’re melting maybe, pooling to liquid beneath her chest.

“We can always stop,” he says gently.

She nods, feeling nervous again.

“Do you want to?” he asks. “Stop?”

Sarah shakes her head. “No.”

He kisses her then. Languid, soft, like they have all the time in the world; like they’re not hiding high above the town. He continues kissing her without hurry and she melts against him, goosebumps erupting across her arms as he ghosts his fingertips across her skin.

“Are you cold?”

“No,” she says, breathless. “It’s just… I like it when you do that.”

He kisses her again. And again. “Do what?”

“Your fingers.”

His eyes seem to twinkle as he slides them from the nape of her neck across her shoulders, brushing the thin straps of her top down.

There are more goosebumps. Something between her legs thumps.

“Like that?”

She nods.

John B moves his fingers so that the tips of them are resting at her rib cage. He strokes upwards and Sarah feels her breath hitch.

“Like that?”

She nods again. “Yes.”

They venture underneath the material of her shirt, skirting around the underside of her breasts. She isn’t wearing a bra.

Right as he kisses her, sliding his tongue into her mouth, wet and hot, he brushes the pad of his thumb over her nipple. It sends a jolt between her legs and she gasps.

She feels him smile against her mouth, smiles herself too, and feels her body – practically of its own accord – push her groin against his. A gruff noise, something from the back of John B’s throat, vibrates in the air and she repeats her action, gasping again when he seems to flick her nipple between his thumb and his forefinger.

“Okay?” he breaks their kiss to ask, and she nods breathlessly, missing his lips on hers.

His fingers work back to the edge of the material, tugging gently until it’s freed from her body and her bare breasts are on show. It’s the most anyone has ever seen of her and her cheeks flush at the thought of it.

His eyes and mouth give him away; he’s looking at her with some emotion she can’t quite discern, palms ghosting across the plane of smooth skin. He kisses the valley between the outer swell of her breasts, working his way along the underside of one and then across to the other.

It is, Sarah decides to herself, the most delicious feeling. Her fingers tangle in the back of his hair, scratching lightly at the base of his skull and he sighs softly against her skin.

She helps him pull off his t-shirt, shifting enough so he can sit up, both seeing and feeling the bulge in his pants. 

She loves the feel of his skin against hers.

John B draws his fingers up her back and she shivers, letting her own hands wander over his shoulders, down over the blades and round to the side of his rib cage. She can feel what she does to him, too. Can feel when he sucks in a breath and stutters for air.

His fingers somehow loosen the button on her jeans and without breaking their kiss, she manages to shimmy out of them, kicking them off somewhere to the side of them. She hadn’t planned for this – is only wearing a pair of cotton panties that she’s a little embarrassed about – but she has only a second or so to care because all of a sudden, his fingers are slipping beneath the material and against her clit.

Every. Single. Nerve. Ending. Is. On. Fire.

Sarah gasps into his mouth, wanting more and yet unsure she can take anything else. He strokes and smooths, circles and presses until she can no longer kiss, can only grip his shoulder and grind her body against his hand.

She’d be embarrassed, she thinks, if it didn’t feel so good.

“You good?” he asks, and she nods fiercely.

“Go - od,” she stutters. “Yes.”

He sucks her neck, laving with his tongue and it’s almost overwhelming.

She’s got herself off before – of course she has – but it’s never felt like this.

She’s going to come, she knows she is. John B slides a finger inside of her and she feels how easy it is; how wet she is. She bites down, teeth accidentally sinking into his shoulder because his finger is curling inside of her, hitting something that makes every part of her tighten.

There are indents in his skin when she peels herself away, cheeks flushed and throat dry, somewhat embarrassed now.

John B kisses her again: her lips, her nose, each eyelid until he’s back at her mouth, tugging her bottom lip with his teeth. He still has his pants on – a fact which is not lost on Sarah – but he’s shifting, lifting her so he can inch out of them and she forgets her self-consciousness when she sees him.

_All_ of him.

She has absolutely nothing to compare this to other than the stories she’s heard from other girls; from the movies she’s watched and the books she’s read.

But they don’t compare. Not at all.

“There’s a condom in my wallet,” he tells her.

_Right._ Protection.

She watches, enraptured, as John B rolls it down his length, waiting for him to guide her; to tell her what to do next.

His voice is gentle when he says, “It might hurt.”

She knows that.

“I’ll go slow.”

Sarah nods. “Okay.”

This time, she lays down, bare skin protected from splinters by the blanket, and he settles over her, hard between her legs. She can hear how shallow her breathing is and just as she’s preparing for the sting of pain, she hears his voice; feels his fingers stroke under her chin.

“Hey.”

She looks up, sees him watching her.

“Only if you want to.”

She thinks she might love him. “I want to.”

John B smiles, dropping his head to kiss her, to suck and lick his way across her neck, nose nudging that wonderful spot at her ear that makes every part of her tingle. She’s more ready now: can feel it at her centre, and she wants it.

Wants _him_.

He pushes gently, waiting a moment before continuing on, reading her gasp as pain and massaging the inside of her thigh through the sting. Slowly, he pulls back and then moves in again – a little further this time – and Sarah feels something inside of her alter. It’s a sort-of pop, soft and soundless, but it means he can push all of the way inside her and it no longer stings.

They find a pace that works for both of them, her hips rising to meet his, moving in a rhythm that means neither of them can really kiss properly. She doesn’t mind though, is enjoying the heavy weight of his body on hers, his arms at either side flexing as he strokes in and out, hips bucking, pace quickening, breath bursting raggedly.

“I’m-” he starts, but fails to finish, words trailing off in a gasp when she lifts her hips a little higher, legs falling slightly wider apart a moment before he goes still, dropping his head into the crook of her neck where he places stuttering kisses.

She hasn’t done this before but she knows what it means.

It’s his t-shirt that she puts on to sleep in. She breathes in the smell of it, and grins when he tells her she looks way better in it than he does.

“Thank you,” she tells him, dancing her fingers over his skin, getting used to the ways in which she can touch him now.

“For what?” John B asks, his words a little muffled by her neck.

“Making it how it was. Making it special.”

“ _Sarah,_ ” he says gently, but doesn’t finish. She knows what he means. But it matters, to her. How respectful he’s been. How safe he made her feel.

It _matters_.

She doesn’t tell him she loves him, but she does say it in her head. Likes the way it sounds, even unspoken.

She snuggles closer, a little sore between her legs, but ultimately happy.

Somewhere outside, a swallow-tailed kite starts its high-pitched call and she closes her eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> The title is taken from Hozier's 'Take me to Church'
> 
> Comments are always hugely appreciated.


End file.
